


Dipping

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Ficlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-29 13:42:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3898408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo wakes up to his queen. (And her kids.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dipping

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “I just want this couple to get together after they meet (after a BOFA fix-it). Bonus if Fili and Kili love that Bilbo is their new step-dad” prompt on [The Hobbit Kink Meme](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/11476.html?thread=23857876#t23857876).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Living in the mountain isn’t so very different from living in a hobbit hole. The thing that wakes him is the morning sun leaking through the window, though the windows here are diamonds instead of circles. It still gets in his eyes, makes his nose twitch, and then he’s yawning himself back to the waking world, shifting between sheets. 

His leg wedges in between a set of thicker ones, and Bilbo snuggles closer to that warmth, that extra body heat, smooth skin and the light scratch of body hair. His eyes lift open enough to see the sleeping face of his girlfriend, who might soon be his wife. She’s nothing like who he used to picture he’d marry, but she’s all kinds of beautiful and far more interesting. He’s grown entirely too fond of dwarves. He likes how thick she is, how much space she takes up in bed, the stubble that lines her chin and the mess of braids in her hair. When she yawns, it’s twice as loud as his, but the grin that spreads over her sleepy face isn’t much different. 

He whispers, “Good morning,” and leans in to peck her nose. The grin grows, and she stretches, arms and legs poking out around him to pull taut.

Dís answers, “Good morning, my little bunny.” The nickname makes him smile. It makes him think of his old adventurous, of sitting at Beorn’s table, being told he’s getting fat. He’s gotten much fatter from Dís and her excellent cooking, so much more hearty than his own.

He leans in to kiss her again, this time on the lips, though his breath feels stale and he needs to get some water. She curls closer to him, coming to meet him halfway, murmuring groggily but hungrily, “I had the most delicious dream...”

Before he can hear about it, their lips are closing together. She lifts a hand to tangle through his hair, matted with sweat from last night. She’s wearing nothing; just as sweat-slicked and musky. Another thing he loves about dwarves is how very _open_ they are—sometimes it’s crude, but other times it’s _lovely_. She presses her hefty thigh right between his, rubbing against him. She deepens the kiss first, slipping her tongue into his mouth, and her heavy breasts flatten into his chest, her round belly melding into his. He can feel the coarse surface of dark hair and stretch marks: all her beauty scars. Sometimes, she reminds him too much of Thorin, but times like this, she’s all _Dís_. Her kisses are fierce but tender, and in between them he murmurs, “Do you want breakfast?” It’s one of the few meals he can make, though he’s hardly the better cook. 

She opens her mouth, either to answer or kiss him again, but then their bedroom door bursts open. It startles Bilbo every time—dwarves really need to learn to knock—but Dís doesn’t react more than glancing over her shoulder. Fíli and Kíli—and of course, it’s almost always them—come barreling into the room in their long nightshirts, jumping onto the bed like children half their age. Sometimes it’s hard to believe that they came on this quest with Bilbo, the three of them all equals.

Now they often treat him like a stepfather, which is awkward and embarrassing but heartwarming at the same time. Dís holds the blankets up high enough to cover her chest, squirming to sit up against the headboard, while Bilbo just tries to stay steady as they make the whole mattress bounce. “Can we go swimming in the river today?” Kíli asks, bright eyed and excited. 

Bilbo answers, “You hardly need to ask us.” He knows Dís won’t mind—she let the boys go all the way to Erebor to fight a dragon, after all. 

Kíli rolls his eyes with a grin, and Fíli explains, “No, all of us—a proper family outing. Maybe we can even get Thorin to come.”

“I think he has better things to do than lounge in the water,” Dís tells them, giving Fíli in particular a strong look. “He’s a king now, and if you’re going to follow in his footsteps, you need to have more respect for that duty!”

“But can we go swimming?” Kíli repeats, ignoring her. Dís sighs, and Bilbo secretly wonders if Thorin would come along, just for old time’s sake. But then, perhaps it wouldn’t be wise to have Thorin around while Bilbo ogled his sister in a bathing suit. 

Thinking of tight, thin fabric stretched along only Dís’ bits and breasts make him decide aloud, “Sure.”

Fíli says, “Awesome,” and the two grin widely at him before slipping off the bed, racing out again, likely to change. They don’t bother to close the door in their wake, which is nothing new. 

Frazzled, Bilbo falls back to his pillow. Dís stays sitting up, smiling down at him, until he fondly looks up at her and asks, “What?”

“Nothing,” she sighs, shaking her head in clear amusement. “I just thought you would be too proper to want to go swimming.”

Bilbo can’t imagine why. He swam enough back home, though the Shire’s rivers are nothing like Erebor’s. Thinking himself rather charming, he tells her, “I think I’d just like to see you in a bathing suit.”

Dís throws her head back against the wall and _laughs_. It’s a hearty, beautiful sound that fills Bilbo’s stomach with butterflies. Or at least, it does until she explains, “My dear Bilbo, bathing suits are for the big folk, and apparently the tiny folk, too. Dwarves go in their skin.”

It takes a moment for that to sink in, and then Bilbo’s cheeks turn very pink. He bathed with the dwarves enough on the way here, of course, but that was only out of necessity, and he always tried to find secluded spots. He’s certainly never gone naked in a great, public river on the steps of a well-stocked kingdom. 

While Bilbo lies there and blushes, Dís climbs out of bed. She bends to peck his cheek, still chuckling, and fetches her night robe. As she ties it around her bare body, she suggests, “We should feed the little ones before we tackle that issue, I think.” Fíli and Kíli are hardly little, but right now Bilbo’s more concerned with other things, like how he can possibly go back on his word. 

Dís reaches out a hand, and Bilbo takes it, letting her drag him out of bed and off into their strange, Dwarven world.


End file.
